Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/115



is a coal-black Angel

With a thick Afric lip,

And he dwells (like the hunted and harried)

In a swamp where the green frogs dip.

But his face is against a City

Which is over a bay of the sea,

And he breathes with a breath that is blastment,

And dooms by a far decree.

By night there is fear in the City,

Through the darkness a star soareth on;

There's a scream that screams up to the zenith,

Then the poise of a meteor lone—

Lighting far the pale f right of the fac es,

And downward the coming is seen;

Then the rush, and the burst, and the havoc,

And wails and shrieks between.